A Fox, a Fox, and the Bug
by Foxpilot
Summary: A spy has been captured, and a man punished.  But Star Fox's new mission will take them through the ringer and send them on a journey they never expected.  Post-Command, "Lucy and Krystal" ending.  OCs.
1. A Burning Start

"**Well, I promised myself that I wouldn't do this, but I got annoyed at my lack of updates and progress. Besides, I've been kicking ideas around for this story for months. It's time to let them out.**

"**What I'm about to do here may shock and appall some people. Please respect the rating, and understand that things are not quite what they seem. And now I'm rambling.**

"**To make mattes short, Star Fox is in no way near my possession. Now, then. Let it…Begin!**

SFSFSFSFSFSFSFSFSFSF

His breath came evenly, footfalls almost completely silent in the empty corridors. Though he'd followed the maze of hallways for the past five minutes, he knew the way as though it was his own home. He didn't bother taking the time to check his map—the data was already memorized.

His ear caught a slight whirring noise. A camera. Good, he was close to the central office. Though his eyes were being aided by night-vision goggles, the dark of the passageways still closed in on him, making his other senses hyper-alert. The spy—for he was such—paused at the corner. The camera was a standard swivel-mount, made to keep your average soldier away from the door in the wee hours of the morning.

He was no ordinary soldier.

And he would not fail. Not tonight of all nights. Not this mission out of every mission he'd ever taken.

He ripped the goggles off just as the light from the camera reached the corner he was hiding behind. Good thing, too, else he'd be blind. For all of Corneria's technology, they still hadn't eliminated the polarization weakness from the blasted things.

The next step was to blow the bulb allowing the camera to see. That was easy enough. As the camera panned away, the spy leaned around the corner and stared at the light.

The effect was immediate. In a sudden flash, the light bulb burst. He was dazzled momentarily, but he charged forward anyway. With the lights out, the camera wouldn't pick up even a single piece of fur. And he had mastered running silently years ago.

Slipping the goggles back on, the hall came back into view. The keypad on the door was dark—all the better to deter snooping guards or nighttime raiders. But he knew the code by heart already. The guys at the hacking office got those numbers in five minutes flat.

4-9-0-1-2. The door slid open noiselessly and he stepped inside. Once the portal closed, he used the goggles to find the light switch. There, on the south wall. The spy took off his eyewear and closed his green orbs. With a slight hum, the light panels came on, illuminating the main computer for the base.

It would all go smoothly from here.

Plugging in the nondescript mobile storage drive, the agent turned the computer's main monitor on. Locked? No problem. It took all of thirty-two seconds to bypass such basic Cornerian Army security. If they tried it once, they tried it a thousand times, after all.

A few button-taps and a quick confirmation, the data he was looking for was being copied onto the MSD. There would be no trace of the data cloning on this computer. His thick black gloves hid his fingerprints. And there were so many furry people on the base that nobody would think twice about a shed hair or two. All according to plan.

With the most dangerous part of the mission over, the man sat in a chair and gained his breath. He didn't do this sort of thing for the rush of adrenaline, the thrill of evading an opponent, or the money. No, this was pure justice. This data—seventy-eight percent copied now—would reveal those plans and put his faction on top of their enemies.

Ninety percent. Alright, may as well be home free.

The door slid open. The spy tumbled out of the chair when he felt the hallway's breeze on his head. Whipping around, he found himself staring at a Doberman dressed in janitor's garb.

The Doberman stared at him. He stared at the dog, terror gnawing at his mind. _Damn it! I was careless!_

The janitor reached for his radio. Crap.

This wouldn't do. If the employee radioed in his position, the plan would be ruined. But he couldn't just kill the guy—the smell of blood would set off alarms nearly as fast. Only one recourse.

Extending an outstretched hand, it looked like the spy wanted a truce. This caught the Doberman by surprise, and he halted his hand inches from the communicator.

The computer beeped, signaling the completion of the file copy. The spy clenched his fist.

The janitor was suddenly beset by hot flashes. This was strange, considering the cleaner was male. The warmth just kept coming, though. It stopped coming in waves and ended up as a single torrent. Before passing out, the Doberman muttered one word, the word that chilled the agent to the bone. He knew this mission would have heavy impacts very soon.

"C-clive…?"

SFSFSFSFSFSFSFSFSFSF

"We bring you breaking news from the Cornerian Capital Courthouse. The verdict is in on Mr. Clive Macolm, tried for treason against the Free Lylat Republic and aggravated assault on a military employee."

Two Lylatians, both vulpine, sat together on the couch in front of the television. One of them was male. His fur was mostly a light rust color, with white going down his front and in a strip on the top of his head. He wore baggy green pants with a matching shirt, which was covered by an unzipped silver jacket. Around his neck as a red bandanna. This was Fox McCloud, leader of the mercenary unit Star Fox.

The other person on the couch was, oddly, blue where Fox was orange. Her body was covered by a pink form-fitting suit. White gloves and boots completed the ensemble rather simply. Her name was Krystal, the telepathic vixen from another star system. She had joined Star Fox about three years ago, before being pushed away by the man she was sitting next to.

Recently, though, Fox and Krystal had reconciled a good amount of their differences at the victory party signaling the defeat of the Anglar Empire, a common enemy. Though their relationship was much better than it had been all of ten days ago, there were still some stresses. This strain, though, was momentarily forgotten as they watched the newscast on the story that had gripped the system.

It was only a week since Star Fox, reunited as a force after years apart, defeated the Anglar Emperor and the Lylat Republic declared victory over the invading fish-people. Driven back to their home planet of Venom—now a clean planet under the watchful eye of one Dash Bowman—they had left behind several wakes of destruction and death from their surprise assault on the star system. Now it fell to the media to find someone or something to distract the public from the horrors of the recent war.

Cue the Clive Macolm case. A witness had come forth the day after victory was declared, making accusations toward a low-level mechanic from a Katina base. This particular person had a clean record; he had first come into the military after the Aparoid War and had been doing unremarkable, if efficient work for the past two years. Now, a witness claimed to have seen the man, a twenty-year-old vulpine, raiding the base's computer of some files.

The defendant had denied the allegations fervently, but it was clear that he was hiding something from his nervous manner. Further evidence came in the form of a broken light bulb from the camera outside of the base's control room—a bulb that the mechanic had replaced only days earlier. The circumstances looked grim for the young man.

"The Judge has declared that the defendant is guilty of both charges and shall be sentenced to exile in the Fichina snow wastes."

"Exile again? Jeez, you'd think they'd learn after Andross."

"Now Fox, this just means that the government has a respect for life and fair chance."

"How is this fair? He's going to be sent into a planet-sized freezer."

"They gave Andross supplies, right? They'll probably give this man some, too. That way, he can at least try to find his way back to civilization."

"For what, to be shunned? Besides, this guy's just a mechanic, not some super-bright evil scientist. He probably won't even know which way is north!"

"True…So tell me Fox, which way _is_ north, anyway?"

Fox fell silent and pondered the question. Meanwhile, the reporter continued the story.

"Here comes the defendant now. He's got a mask on his head to protect his face from pictures, but we'll see if we can get a few words from Mr. Macolm. Excuse me, sir!" The reporter pushed her way through the crowd, leaving the cameraperson to follow while clumsily holding the camera. "Sir! Sir! How do you feel about the ruling?"

The convict was silent for a moment, but responded. By the way his voice shook, you could tell that he was disturbed by the events. "Th…this shouldn't have happened…but it has. There will be difficulties ahead, so we must all be prepared" With that, Clive Macolm turned toward the awaiting police van and allowed his guards to push him inside. The door was quickly shut and the can screamed off in the direction of the police station.

The reporter turned to the camera-holder, who could be heard panting slightly. "There you have it. The case has been settled. Another swift and righteous justice has been delivered to a dangerous, if cryptic criminal. Back to you in the studio."

The camera zoomed out and shared a screen with the newscaster in the studio. The anchor on the set thanked the street correspondent before continuing the news. "In another late-breaking story, another electronics store was broken into and cleaned out today. The police are baffled, as it seems that the culprits—for there must be more than one—were able to gain access through the front door without—"

Fox shut off the television. He was still stumped on the riddle Krystal had given him, but wasn't willing to give up yet.

Falco took this time to enter. The bird was the only feathered member of the team, and a very independent and arrogant pilot. But since Star Fox had friends, work, and now money, he couldn't say no to returning to the team. As much as he hated to admit it, he didn't feel complete without two foxes and a toad by his side.

That didn't mean he couldn't jibe them, though.

"Hey, lovemammals. I heard you two in Fox's room last night. Kept me up for about an hour before you two finally calmed down. You mind not making so much noise tonight?"

Fox spluttered while Krystal put on a sour face. Falco Lombardi knew that the two hadn't shared a room ever, let alone shared a bed for any length of time. But the avian still got a kick out of seeing the reactions that his friends and coworkers put on when he said something like that.

"Ah, whatever. I'll leave you two alone so you can make out or something." With that, Falco made for the lift, likely heading for the kitchen. The door had closed before Fox could finally spit out his rebuke.

"I-it's not like that!"

"Easy there, Fox. Give it a rest. You know he's just playing. Still, I think I'll go give him a piece of my mind." Krystal made for the elevator, tail swishing in slight annoyance.

As the lift arrived, the vixen turned back to Fox. "By the way, we're in space. There is no 'north' here." As Krystal entered the elevator and closed the door, Fox groaned. Planting a hand on his head, the mercenary leader berated himself for missing such an easy question for a career space-farer.

SFSFSFSFSFSFSFSFSFSF

The elevator door opened to the kitchen, where Krystal found Slippy writing on cards of some sort. The toad looked up and greeted his squad-mate before turning back to the counter.

"Hello Slippy. Did you see where Falco went?"

Slippy looked up again. "Yeah, he came through here and grabbed a bag of his favorite chips before going on to the bridge. He was laughing like an idiot again. Why, did he make fun of you and Fox again?"

"Yes, he did. Thanks."

"Hey, Krys?"

"What's up?"

Slippy shuffled his feet for a moment before responding. "W-well, as you know, Amanda and I are gonna have our wedding in about a week. She wanted to know if you'd…you'd like to be a bridesmaid? And if so, what are your measurements?" The flustered amphibian blurted the last sentence out so fast and nervously that Krystal had to smile. She could feel his embarrassment at having to ask, even indirectly, how fat she was.

"It's alright, Slippy." The toad let out a sigh of relief. "I'd love to be a bridesmaid at a Cornerian wedding. Now, about those measurements—"

ROB 64, the android operations chief of the _Great Fox_ mothership cut in at that moment.

"All personnel report to the bridge. General Hare has contacted us."

"I'll tell you later, Slip. For now, let's not keep the General waiting."

SFSFSFSFSFSFSFSFSFSF

"Greetings, Star Fox." General Peppy Hare, leader of the Cornerian armed forces, looked splendid in his scarlet-and-gold military uniform. The graying hairs and large moustache gave him the look of a wise, concerned grandfather. Peppy had been the sole surviving member of the first team Star Fox—composed of Fox's father, Hare, and the traitorous Pigma Dengar—and had served on the current team until being called into Generalship. He had been a pivotal player in the Anglar War, joining Fox, Falco, and Slippy on Venom for the final assault.

"Same to you, General."

"Now, Fox. I've told you before that you all don't have to call me that. Anyway, I have an important mission for the team. It's good to see everyone together again, by the way.

"Now, this assignment is strictly confidential. I'm sending a friend over to give you the details, but this is to be done in the utmost secrecy. Nobody must know that you're under our contract, nor should they be given reason to suspect as such."

"If this is so tight-lipped, why give it to us?"

"Quit complainin', Fox! The big man himself is givin' us some work. It'll be a nice break from the break we got after we kicked the Anglars' tails."

Peppy chuckled. "Falco, I admire your spirit. I always have. But…" The aging hare leaned in closer. "I don't know if I should tell you this over the communication waves. Listen and listen good. This mission is only one I can entrust to the people who I have the most faith in. The mission you four and the agent I'm sending to meet you are going on will not be on the public record for some time, if ever. I can only trust you, my family of pilots outside of the military, to do this without breaking code. It's a bit outside of the MO, but this job is much more than the average soldier can handle."

"What are you talking about, Peppy?"

"Slip, everyone, you'll all find out soon enough. I've already dispatched the man you will be working with for this assignment. He will arrive in a modified Cornerian fighter. You'll hear from him soon, but don't try to contact him yourselves. I can't really tell you any more information, but Krystal will be able to let you know when he's going to arrive."

"Will do, Peppy. I think I already feel him on his way. You said it's one man?"

"Yes. He won't be easy to spot, but he's capable of docking properly. He should reach you in the next half hour." 

"Alright, Pep. We'll take the job. Thanks you for your complete confidence."

"Fox, if I had never had complete confidence, I would have done everything in my power to stop you from going after Andross." Peppy gave the team a salute. "General Peppy Hare, out." The comm screen turned to the Cornerian military logo, signaling that the transmission had been cut.

"Fox, this man that Peppy has sent…I don't think I've felt him before."

"What do you mean?"

"The last time we were on the base, after the Anglar attack, everyone in the Cornerian Army was there to cheer us on. I may have missed him in the throng, but I don't believe that this person, whoever he is, was there that day."

"You're worryin' too much, Krystal. He may have had a cold or been in the hospital or somthin'. Or he may have just shipped in from another army base." Falco's reasoning seemed to lighten up Krystal's mood.

"You're right. And by the way…"

"What? Why you lookin' at me like that?"

Krystal stomped straight up to the avian. "Keep your perverted comments to yourself!"

SFSFSFSFSFSFSFSFSFSF

True to General Peppy's word, the Cornerian fighter broadcasted a landing request about twenty-five minutes after Krystal had confronted Falco. The team gathered on the landing deck to meet their new associate.

They didn't see the fighter at first. They only became aware of the craft when it entered the hangar; it was completely covered in black paint. The engine's exhaust was minimized to look like another star in space. Each member of Star Fox wondered what kind of agent this person was; certainly a spy of some sort. Was their mission an espionage assignment?

The fighter extended its landing gear and settled down near Slippy's _Bullfrog_ starship. As the hatch opened, Fox, Krystal, Falco, and Slippy formed a half-circle around its starboard side.

The hatch opened, revealing a set of black fox ears sticking up over a Cornerian Army helmet. The head covering was painted camouflage, with the visor being a translucent green. The figure removed the helmet and jumped to the deck as the canopy closed.

The man was young; at least, younger than any of Star Fox's current members. He seemed to be about twenty. The man was of vulpine descent, covered by an orange-red coat not too dissimilar from General Hare's uniform. His chin and neck were white; a typical pattern for a red fox.

His clothes were less typical. Where one might have expected a uniform of sorts, this man wore a plain red T-shirt, jeans, and sneakers. His arms and shoulders were covered by a heavy, dull-yellow coat that was held closed only by two clasps at his neck. Possibly the most striking thing, though, was the sword hanging at his left hip. It was possible that the blade was only for show, but the faint scent of blood was barely detectable through the thick smell of polish.

The man came forth, green eyes burning with distrust.

Fox held out a hand. "Hello there, sir. Welcome to the _Great Fox_. I'm Fox—"

"Fox McCloud, leader of the Star Fox mercenary team." The man spoke in a clipped, cold tone. "You are the credited savior of Lylat on four separate occasions and a mass-murderer, known for skilled, brutal flying. You also don't know how to hold a team together."

Krystal spoke up. "Sir, that's hardly fair—"

The man turned on her. "Krystal; last name unknown or nonexistent. You come from another section of the galaxy, far away from the Lylat System. Newest member of Star Fox and the telepathic survivor of your race. When pushed away by Fox after the Aparoid War, you ran to Panther Caroso, becoming a known cohort of Star Wolf while taking up a career in military piloting. Your last physical examination showed that you have had sex with Caroso on at least one occasion." The Star Fox pilots all inhaled as one, each for their own reasons. It took a moment, but tears started coursing down Krystal's face.

When Slippy opened his mouth to object, the agent turned to him. "Slippy Toad. Son of Research Director Beltino Toad. Mechanic of Star Fox, best friend of Fox McCloud, and a notoriously bad pilot. You and your father constructed an unlicensed submersible capable of firing a nearly infinite amount of energy torpedoes. If it hadn't been destroyed with the original _Great Fox_, it could have been captured and used by terrorists to besiege any planet with an ocean."

The man turned from a stunned Slippy to Falco before anyone could react. "Falco Lombardi. Ace pilot of Star Fox. You reveal little about your history, but you've been linked to multiple delinquencies. As a former member of the now-disbanded Space Hot Rodders, you have a connection with gang members. You seem to hold a sort of crush on Katt Monroe, but are too childish or foolish to recognize on it."

The man pushed past Fox and made for the elevator. "If you'll excuse me, I'll be finding my own way to the guest rooms. We'll meet on the bridge at eight o'clock sharp tomorrow morning, Cornerian time. There, I will brief you on your upcoming mission."

The lift doors opened, allowing the young agent entrance. As the doors close, the only sounds were the cooling engines of his fighter and the sobs of a distraught and embarrassed woman.

SFSFSFSFSFSFSFSFSFSF

"**Well, I just killed the story, now didn't I? I introduce two of the pivotal players of this fic, and neither of them is fit in their proper role. Hell, you all don't even know the rude agent's name yet.**

"**Well, for those who are curious, he's on my profile. As are the other two main OCs for this story. If you want spoilers, then feel free to check them out. Some of you may already know two of them, but they're not portrayed as their true selves quite yet.**

"**I probably sound like an idiot. I've got the first part of the next chapter forming, so I may be able to get it out soon. Don't count on it, but it's possible.**

"**Until then, feel free to be angry at these new people. It won't do you much good, but hey, why not?**

"**I think my meds have worn off for the night. I'm feeling rather mellow…not your problem. Ciao chow, all, and remember: this is far from over."**


	2. Greg the Delightful

**"And so we begin again. I feel a bit better about this story now, so hopefully some great things will come from it, aye?**

**"The story is going to get a little more emotion-intense this chapter. With the arrival of this irritating government agent, the team has their work cut out for them when it comes to internal matters. Just a fair warning in case someone out there doesn't like strife.**

**So, as is usual for authors on this site, I don't have any holding over licensed content. I wish I did, though. That would be so awesome.**

**"Wishing aside, let's see what our favorite heroes (and Slippy, for those of you who hate him with a passion) have to say about this jackass. Let it…Begin!"**

SFSFSFSFSFSFSFSFSFSF

"Who the heck does this guy think he is, insulting us like that?" Falco inquired of his teammates as they sat around the common room table. Hardly five minutes had passed since Peppy's agent had arrived, and already the members of Star Fox were irritated with him. If it weren't for Fox's insistence on keeping cursing to a minimum, this interloper would have been bombarded with foul language before the elevator closed.

"Falco, he's clearly…I mean he's…well…Okay, he's a jerk." Not even Slippy, the most optimistic of the four, could find something positive to say in this situation. "What's really creepy is that he seemed to know us inside and out. I mean, yeah the _Blue-Marine_ wasn't approved by Corneria, but they knew that they could trust us with it."

"Yeah, Slip. Even if I didn't like the thing, it came in handy for Aquas. Maybe this idiot's just jealous of our reputation, you know?"

"I don't think so, Falco," replied Fox. "Whoever this guy is, he seems to have more experience researching for his own purposes than just finding out about a person's downfalls." The vulpine looked over at Krystal, who still had tears sliding down her fur.

Fox turned back to Falco and Slippy. "He doesn't seem to be interested in working with people he considers criminals. I have to respect his sense of justice, but he takes it way too far."

"He acts like he hasn't made a mistake in his life." Falco reclined before continuing. "Well, I'd say he just made a huge one. Next time he pulls one of his little back-talking stunts, his muzzle's gonna look like an old-timey accordion."

"You can't do that, Falco," Slippy rebutted. "We're under the General's orders for this. We might get fired if we hurt the guy. One look at his Cornerian Fighter and you can tell it's made for something big. It was made to blend into space, and it didn't even show up on radar." Fox and Falco looked at the toad. "What, you guys didn't notice? We should have picked it up from the atmosphere. If it weren't for Krystal, we wouldn't have known he was coming so soon."

At the mention of her name, the vulpine burst out into another round of sobs. Wary of how she might feel, Fox carefully put an arm around her and asked, "Do you want to talk about it?"

Krystal nodded her head, but it took some time before she was calm enough to begin. "I-it was…it wasn't too long before the Anglar attack. I was feeling more depressed than before…and angry, too. And Panther, he was so charming…he said 'If you want to hurt him, Panther doesn't blame you. For tearing the heart of such a beautiful and delicate flower, he deserves more than any punishment could deal!' We then went out for a movie…went to dinner…but I was still upset. So he suggested…suggested…" At this point, the blue vixen broke out in tears again.

"I-I-I'm so so-sorry! I never meant to let it get to that point! But I knew…knew that if you found out…and I'd tell you eventually…that when you found out, you'd be furious! Upset! Hurt beyond all reason! And that's what I wanted, more than anything e-e-else in the world!

"A-a-a-and it was go-good…good to make you feel my pain. But…but after the fact, I thought of the consequences." Several more sobs wracked Krystal's frame before she continued. "So I took my…my exams early, just to see if he'd done anything or had any-any-any dis…disease. The doctor said I was clean, but…but, oh, I felt so disgusting the next night!" These last words were too much, and the blue fox finally collapsed into uncontrollable crying.

Nobody said anything as Fox pulled Krystal close. Each was reflecting in their own ways on this revelation. Falco was thinking about how idiotic Fox had been and silently promising to rip Panther's two best friends off next chance he got. Slippy had sympathetic thoughts running through his head, but no phrase in his vocabulary seemed to fit the occasion.

And Fox…Fox was conflicted. On one hand, Krystal had done more than date his disgusting rival for her affections. She'd slept with him! And all to get back at Fox, the one who had hurt her so in the first place. Betrayal swirled in his gut, speaking of horrible doubt and rage.

On the other side, her days associating with Star Wolf were done now. Both of the foxes had made enormous mistakes that couldn't be taken back. Both had their remorseful feelings and their taboos; it was just that Krystal had kept hers hidden, and for a good reason. Fox knew that such a secret would tear someone inside-out until they told someone. For that, he felt pity.

But one thing stuck out above all of those.

Fox felt guilty. Guilty that he'd ever driven Krystal way. Guilty that she'd felt that revenge was in order. Guilty that the young woman he'd rescued so long ago—such a pure, innocent person at the time—would believe that his feelings for her were untrue. Such guilt, such shame, such hurt.

_This is all my fault_, thought Fox.

Following what felt natural—a policy drilled into his subconscious by both his father and Peppy, Fox did the one thing he felt was right.

He pulled Krystal closer and cried with her; cried from the utter confusion of savage emotions and for not knowing what to do. For the first time in years, Fox McCloud had no idea what the next step was.

Slippy, the compassionate person he was, felt his eyes begin to water. Falco, though, wasn't particularly moved.

"Alright already! Jeez, turn of the waterworks, you two. What's done is done now, right? You two obviously care enough to not care about this, so move on and pull yourselves together! Besides, what are you cryin' about, Foxie? You—Oof!"

Falco was cut off by an amphibian elbow to the ribs. Slippy pulled his friend closer and tried to quietly explain.

"Fox feels bad about making Krystal all sad. C'mon, you can't honestly say you don't understand that? Besides, this is their moment to be sorry together. So shut your beak and let them be sensitive."

"Bah, you too? Bein' with women has made everyone around here soft. There's no way we'll get any work done with you all bein' crybabies."

"Falco, you're being about as insensitive as that agent guy was! Even you aren't that cold. Besides, what would Katt say?"

"What do you mean insensitive? I'm bein' more than that! This is reality we've gotta deal with. And you leave Katt outta this. She's not involved."

"You keep telling yourself that Falco. At least be quiet so Fox and Krystal can have their moment. Why don't we just work our way to the kitchen or something?"

"How can you be hungry at a time like this? You just wanna take a look at the stealth fighter, don'tcha?"

"Have it your way, then." Slippy stood up and called the elevator. Once the door opened, he told Falco over his shoulder, "I guess that leftover eggroll is all mine, then."

"Wha—? Hey! You little…get back here!" But by then, the door had closed and Slippy was on the way down. "Grr, I'm gonna…You get back here!" Falco made for the emergency steps to the lift's right and flung the door open. The handle slammed against the metallic wall with a horrible crash, but Lombardi ignored this and swooped down the stairwell.

Fox and Krystal, having watched since Slippy first mentioned Katt's name, couldn't help but share a mutual chuckle. In the backs of their minds, they both knew that Slip had gotten Falco riled up for them. It wasn't necessary, but the action was much appreciated.

Several quiet moments passed, the sounds of the ship orbiting a planet the only disturbance in the air. Eventually, the awkwardness had to end. "So…how was he?"

"Don't start with that, Fox."

"Sorry."

Another silence pervaded; this one far less tense than the previous. Eventually, the two vulpine teammates exchanged tight hugs before Krystal announced, "I'm going to go talk to our new friend."

"But—"

"You're worried I'll cry again?" Fox nodded. "Fox, do you trust me?"

"Well, uh, er…that is—"

"You don't, do you?" The blue fox sighed. "It's not like I can blame you. Then again, you're not perfect either."

Krystal gave Fox a stern look. "I would have told you eventually, when I thought that both of us could handle the reality. It was just really unnerving to know that someone outside of our private circle knew the details so well. Understand?"

"Yeah…Kinda like when Falco told you about Fara the day after you came aboard the _Great Fox_."

"Exactly. Just remember Fox: this guy's an idiot. Now, I'm going to go deal with our new nimrod. You can trust me to do that much."

A further moment of silence passed as fox and vulpine processed what Krystal was trying to say. There was no time to worry about past mistakes now. They had been given a job and must work to the best of their abilities to get it done. Even if their so-called ally was more of a jackass than Leon, they would have to push through.

Besides, this was a post-war era. It was time to start fresh again.

"Why don't you go on ahead to make sure the boys don't kill each other, Fox?"

"Yeah, good idea. Even if I have to eat that eggroll myself, those two have to stay alive."

"But you hate eggrolls."

"Sometimes, a leader has to take a laser for the team."

SFSFSFSFSFSFSFSFSFSF

As Krystal approached the door, she found herself wondering what had made this strange man so aggravating. From her own time as "one of the jerks," as Falco might so eloquently put it, she knew that it generally took some sort of large, painful event to turn a person so bitter. But what kind of happening could turn such an inexperienced person so angry?

Knocking on the door, Krystal announced, "Hello, I want to talk to you…actually, we never met properly. What's your name?"

Rather than open the door, the sound of paws hitting the locking mechanism announced the man's presence. "Greg. Just Greg. Call me Agent Heat if you must."

"Well, Greg, I believe we should have a face-to-face chat. If we're going to work together, under General Peppy's orders or not, then we should at least minimize hostilities between our two parties."

Silence. Then, "General Hare's orders are the only reason I'm sharing a cruiser with a disloyal who—"

"Watch it," Krystal growled. "That's territory you have no right to be in. Now get out here so we can talk like civilized people."

"Screw off. We'll meet in the morning and I don't intend on being seen until then. I'm not one for socializing, anyway." Something about the mass of a fully-grown adult hit the bed in the room, making the cot squeal in protest. Krystal wasn't pleased with being ignored.

Sliding over to the control pad, the blue vixen entered the general override code for the guest rooms. The door slid open to a surprised yelp from the occupant. "Wha? How did you—?"

"All members of Star Fox know the override codes for all doors except for personnel quarters." Krystal wasn't shy about her smugness. "I'd think someone as well-informed as you would know."

The man, Greg, tossed something over his shoulder. It didn't escape Krystal's notice, but she decided to hold off on the subject for the moment. Right now, "Agent Heat" seemed rather livid.

"You intruding little…" The man's facial fur was rippling with aggravation. "I'm a guest on your ship! What kind of crew enters the private quarters of a passenger without permission?"

"I'm not 'crew,' as you put it. I am a member of team Star Fox and an equal shareholder in all assets. The _Great Fox_ belongs to the team, not just Fox McCloud."

"Isn't that nice? Now get out."

"Look, I've tried being civil and going about this like a sane person. It's not working, so I'll be blunt. We don't appreciate your bad attitude here, mister. You can either suck it up and deal with us or get off our mothership. I don't care if you're the best pilot in the Cornerian Army or whatever. You don't know us and we don't know you."

"_Don't_…treat…me…like a kid!" Greg's expression turned from annoyance to rage. "I'm not some little, inexperienced brat! You don't know who I am in the least. I know everything I need to know about you all, though. If I weren't the best suited agent for this mission, I wouldn't deal with low-down, traitorous, deserting sluts like you! Get out of this room or I'll force you out!"

"You, sir, do not have the right to kick me out. Come with me and we can all deal with this under Peppy's watch. If you want to act like a spoiled child, which you are, then you can deal with someone you actually respect. Now, come with me!" Krystal's hand shot out with remarkable speed and grabbed the agent by the arm. A long moment of tension slowed time. And then the feeling started.

"Ow!" Krystal jerked her hand back and looked at it. The glove was singed from slivery-white to a deep brown, almost like it had been cooked. Before she could ask any questions, the vixen found herself outside of the room with her tail almost pinched by the door. Only her innate sense of danger kept her from a doctor's visit.

"What…what was that? Hey, what just happened?"

"Get lost!"

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It wasn't easy, but R.O.B. managed to pick the charred glove off of Krystal's hand.

"Whoa, whoa, whoa…let me get this straight," said Falco over a mouthful of eggroll. "This guy, this brat who thinks he's the man, pushed you out of a room on _our_ ship and thinks he can get away with it?" Falco popped the rest of the food substance in his mouth and chewed it with angry thoughtfulness.

"That's what it sounds like. I think Peppy needs to know about this."

"Slippy, this guy's a total as—er, scumbag! The only way to teach scumbags a lesson is to pound them into the dirt."

"You can't just go up and punch him, Falco," Krystal reminded the bird. "He seems to have some sort of energy field surrounding him. I didn't even know Lylat had such technology."

"Why not? It sounds like the reflector prototypes I designed for Fox and Falco all that time ago. Too bad they only worked in two dimensions…"

"Slippy, you're the smartest inventor in the galaxy! Nobody could figure out how those things work. Besides, Krys said it was some sort of burning thing. Yours are electromagnetic whosamawhatsits."

"That's enough, you two. I don't think we'll be getting too much out of this guy by conventional methods."

"So you're saying you're gonna read his mind or somethin'?"

"Falco, I don't think telepathy is what she means."

"Right, Slippy. Instead, I want you to examine his fighter."

"Alri—wait, what?"

"Greg has made it clear that he's staying in his room for the next twelve hours or so. You can take apart and reassemble an Arwing in two-thirds of that with ease."

"I dunno…Fox won't like this."

"You're right, Fox doesn't like this." All eyes, robotic and living, turned to the medical ward's door as Fox ambled in. His fur was still everywhere from tearing Falco off of Slippy, but his feeling of authority had returned. "That's why we're going to look over the ship together."

Confusion filled the eyes of the living teammates. R.O.B. clanked off to dispose of the ruined glove. "Even I want to know what this guy's about," continued Fox. "So each of us will take a section of that fighter and inch over it until any secrets it hides are exposed. It'll be a team-building exercise as well as an information session. If we're going to start functioning as a unit again, we have to act like one." Fox glanced at Krystal before issuing orders.

"Slippy, the engines are yours. Leave no bold unturned. If there's a secret panel of some sort in there, I want you to take it apart.

"Falco, the cockpit is your territory. If even the controls are set in a peculiar manner, tell us. Make sure every dial, button, and lever returns to its place—that's the most important part of the operation.

"Krystal, you check the bomb chute. You can fit in the tunnel best, so it's up to you to find anything out of the ordinary inside of it. My instincts tell me that it won't be as dangerous as an Arwing's bomb layout. It may have been converted to storage, like my Arwing before the Sauria incident.

"As for me, I'll be looking over every inch of the fuselage. In the lights of the hangar, the ship is easy to see. Nothing is going to escape my eyes.

"We all have our orders. Are we clear?" Three affirmations followed Fox's question. "Then let's go. Star Fox…move out!"

Falco eyed his comrade. "Eh, Fox? We're only going to the hangar."

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The process of examining the fighter was tedious, but charged with expectation. Krystal, insisting that her hand was fine, wriggled into the bomb chute. Fox had started with the left wing as Slippy squirmed into the engines. Falco practically greeted the starfighter's cabin like an old friend and started rooting about instantly.

Krystal reported first. As Fox had suspected, the bomb payload had been replaced. However, it seemed that rather than act as cargo storage, the chute had been filled with a strange machine. Slippy took a moment from the engines to confirm that the device was the radar-dodging mechanism. Krystal returned to the shaft's inside in order to prod about some more.

Falco examined instruments with a pilot's eye, noting anything that seemed out of the ordinary. The only problem he found, though, was that the fuel gauge was low. Lombardi complained about how they'd have to loan their guest fuel for the trip home.

As Slippy disassembled the engine, Fox skittered over the hull. Every panel was shaded the same obsidian black, but the lights in the sealed hangar of the _Great Fox_ made it easy to find the seams. Nothing seemed strange, though McCloud wasn't too familiar with the current model of Cornerian starfighter.

As the other three finished their searches, Slippy crawled out of the engine. True to form, the mechanics of the ship were left in the same condition as they had started in. Slippy reported that other than a higher efficiency of output, there was little different from a usual fighter's

With their exam essentially fruitless, Fox decided to call it a day. He gave everyone leave to relax before the mission briefing the next day. Falco, miffed at the lack of success, responded bitterly.

"Gee, Fox, thanks. Now I can catch up on my beauty sleep."

"No need to be sarcastic, Falco."

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Krystal wasn't done with Greg. Being too stubborn had its advantages sometimes. While this may not have been one of them, the situation left everyone feeling on-edge. That wouldn't do for the upcoming mission.

As such, the blue vixen was making her way to the agent's room. This time, though, she was keeping all senses open in case she could get some sort of reading on the instigating pilot's thoughts. Oddly enough, she didn't feel him in this part of the ship.

Knocking on the door proved Krystal's suspicions. There was absolutely no response to the traditional announcement of presence, meaning that Agent Heat was out in the ship somewhere.

The sound of water splashing down the hall explained the reason. The _Great Fox_, being originally designed as a Cornerian military vessel, had public showers. Apparently even the antisocial pilot needed showers.

A quick glance to either side showed nobody coming down the hall. Against all better judgment, Krystal entered the override code and swept into the guest room.

The space was sparsely decorated—a tight budget after the Aparoid invasion had combined with a lack of personal property to allow only the most essential rooms to have so much as a painting of a flower. The surfaces were dusty from having so little use—neither Fox nor R.O.B. being much for extra cleaning—and the bed probably hadn't had a sheet change since the team had first bought it. The walls weren't even painted. Krystal would be sure to bring that up to Fox when the paychecks were divvied up.

On the bedside stand were two objects. The first was a small military-grade lamp used for reading and other activities. The other…

The other was a picture. Krystal stepped closer to examine it. It was a photograph of a young man, no older than eighteen, wearing a hat with the Cornerian Army's emblem on it.

The man looked like a slightly younger version of Greg.

It was puzzling, but had some sense to it. The man stalked around the ship as though he was King of Lylat. It would figure he'd have a picture of himself in his pocket at any given time.

On the other side, why was he wearing such a strange hat? And why not keep a more up-to-date picture?

Confused and aware of the shower water stopping, Krystal retreated from the room, sealing the door behind her.

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Falco was the last one to stroll onto the bridge—ten minutes late. Slippy rolled his eyes while Krystal kept an even face. Fox was about to jokingly jibe the avian for his tardiness, but Greg got to him first.

"You're late, you layabout crook. No reasons other than you were sleeping on the job, I bet. Whatever. Sit down, shut up, and listen."

"What was that? You little…Why don't you say that to my face?" Falco made to Slug the man in the nose, but the rest of the team held him back.

"He's not worth it, Falco," Krystal chided. Eventually, the three managed to get Falco to his seat, where he calmed down enough to glare sulkily at the agent.

For his part, Greg didn't seem fazed. "Good. Now that you're all here, we can begin." He pulled a folder out of his bag. The file was stamped by the seal of the Cornerian President, signifying its importance.

The agent opened the file and pulled out four sheets. Handing each one to the Star Fox members, he began to explain.

"No doubt General Hare told you this, but the mission is strictly confidential. If any of you tells somebody outside of this group about it, you will be denounced by the government as insane, discredited, stripped of all honors, and thrown into an asylum for the rest of your lives. Any questions? Good." Greg didn't even wait for an answer.

"Now, you all probably wonder what this mission is. I can't reveal all of the details yet, but you may know the first part."

He straightened up, stiffening his back. "As you know, the trial of Clive Macolm has been decided. Unfortunately, the public did not get the truth. This man, Mr. Macolm, is innocent and is taking the place of someone else. Our first job…" Greg paused, which made him seem even more pompous. "…Is to rescue the victim from Fichina before he dies."

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**"Finally finished. Now, I'd like to talk really quickly about archetypes in response to one of my reviewers. You may not have meant anything disrespectful, and if you say otherwise, I'll believe you, but you pointed out about how the OCs are like some others from someone else's story.**

**"First off, I've never heard of that writer before, so you can rest assured that there is no correlation between our OCs. Now, archetypes are sort of like stereotypes, except they aren't generally used in a negative way. They are character personalities or models that show up often due to their popularity or common nature. As such, Greg and Clive are not copies of any character you may have run into. They are simply designed to fit into categories.**

**"Your concern, however, is quite valid. I give my word, though (if it's worth anything), that I came up with these characters on my own. I'm not the kind of person to steal ideas if I can help it.**

**"My thanks to Thestarfox64master, ElementUchihaMaster (a lot of masters around here, hm?), PerfectPhoenix, A Stainless Steel Rat, Graystripe, and Chaos Leader for their kind and informative reviews. I hope you found this chapter to be of the same quality or better than the previous one.**

**"Ciao chow, all, and remember: don't judge something by its appearance."**


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